


Inevitable by Madison

by sgamadison



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-15
Updated: 2011-04-15
Packaged: 2017-10-18 02:37:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgamadison/pseuds/sgamadison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He should have seen it coming--it was inevitable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inevitable by Madison

**Author's Note:**

> spoiler for SGU episode "Seizure".

"What's wrong with you?" John asked when Rodney entered the room and silently made his way over to the table where John was sitting to deposit his laptop and datapad. The door to the balcony was open and the late afternoon breeze wafted in through from the Bay, smelling of salt water. It also smelled vaguely of petroleum products—Rodney had never noticed how clean the planets in Pegasus smelt until he'd returned to Earth.

"Nothing," Rodney said quietly, and sat down in the other chair, bending over at the waist to untie his shoes.

"Really?" The drawl was more prominent now, and Rodney hid a sigh. He'd just entered the room, for chrissake. How was it that John knew something was bugging him?

 _Don't bring it up, don't bring it up._ It was pointless and stupid and nothing good could possibly come of it. _Just leave it alone._ Rodney silently willed John to understand and comply—much as they seemed to be able to communicate with each other almost telepathically in a critical situation. Only this wasn't one of those life or death times. _Wasn't it?_ The voice in his brain sounded mocking.

"We could play Twenty Questions, but it'd be easier if you just told me what was eating you." John stretched with a stifled yawn, lifting his fists at chest height and pushing his shoulders back as he did so. The action stretched the thin material of the standard black t-shirt across his chest and Rodney thought, not for the first time, that John still looked amazingly hot for a man of his age. Not just in good shape, not just fit, but god damned _hot._ It had never failed to both gratify and annoy him at the same time. Not, that is, until this afternoon.

Today, it depressed him.

"I said there was nothing. Why can't you just accept that? Jeeze, what makes you think there's something wrong anyway?" Rodney couldn't help but snap and instantly regretted doing so.

John tossed the book he'd been reading aside and lowered his sock feet from the table where they'd been propped. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "Well, for starters, you came in without a word. Now, on a typical day, you'd blast through the doors all puffed up and outraged about some imbecility on the part of the SGC support teams, or the latest stalling tactic from the IOA, or something down at the labs that has you incredibly frustrated. On a good day, you'd come in hyped up over something you'd just discovered or finally worked out. Or some rumor that we might be headed back to Pegasus soon. You, silent? Not so good."

Rodney straightened, folded his arms, and glared. "Ha-ha. Very funny." He dropped his attention back at his shoes and toed them off, wiggling his toes inside his socks thoughtfully.

John sat up very straight in his chair. "They're not sending you on some stupid-ass mission to try to rescue the people on Destiny again, are they?" His voice deepened into what Rodney liked to think of as John's _'don't make me angry, you won't like it when I'm angry'_ register. It was silky, seductive, and lethal as hell.

Rodney snorted. "Not hardly. I gave them a piece of my not inconsiderable mind after the last incredibly stupid attempt. It's one thing to have me drop everything here and work on their algorithms until I solve their problem. It's not out of the realm of reason to ask me to go demonstrate the beauty of the solution and how to institute it. It's not even asking too much to have me be the one to set it up planet-side, when we got the go ahead. But this sneaking around behind the Langarans' backs, ramming our plan down their throats? When they have every right to make whatever decision they think is the in best interest of their planet? That was just plain wrong." Rodney sighed and wiped his face with one hand. "I think I'm getting too old for this shit, John."

John relaxed, leaning back in his chair and making a small noise of commiseration. Outside, among the cries of seagulls, a distant trawler blasted its horn.

"You tried to tell them."

"Yes. More than once. Thank god, Young listened to me in the end." Rodney thought briefly of asking John just what the hell had he said to Colonel Young about him anyway, and precisely when had this conversation taken place? He decided against it, though, thinking it would make him sound like a jealous lover—which brought him back in a circular fashion to the topic that had him so morose in the first place.

John shrugged it off. "It was a poorly thought-out mission from the get-go. I thought I was going to have to take a team in to rescue you guys. Woolsey was pretty pissed about it too. It won't happen again." He sounded very final about that, and Rodney felt a small stirring of relief—perhaps he was worrying too much for nothing after all.

John shifted in his seat and the light coming through the window caught the edge of his perpetual five o'clock shadow, showing more gray in it now that Rodney had remembered seeing before. The blunt evidence of the passage of time brought his worry crashing back to the foreground again.

"So, not the SGC. No major catastrophe within Atlantis. Nothing about when we might return home either." John was wearing his little smirky face again. He thought he knew Rodney so well.

"What makes you say that?" Rodney asked tartly. He suddenly and fiercely understood why John thought of Pegasus as home and he wished it was in his power to return them there right now. Earth didn't smell right any more. It was a cacophony of unwanted noise and people as well.

"Because you would've blurted it out as soon as you came in the door. This is something you don't want to tell me or else it's something that's all in your head."

That pissed Rodney off a bit. "In my head? Since when do I make up stuff to be worried about?"

John raised both eyebrows briefly and then let out one of his short, braying laughs.

"Okay, point taken. You know what I meant, though."

"Yeah, buddy, I do. I also know that inactivity doesn't suit you any more than it does me. I'd lay money on the odds that you're getting bored here waiting for us to go back to Pegasus. You won't admit it, but you've gotten addicted to being on the run."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Colonel Pot. You're a fine one to talk."

John grinned at him. Rodney wanted to just sit there and look at John fondly for a moment, but the niggling sense of unease refused to let go of him.

"So, Rodney." John was back to drawling again. "You gonna tell me what's up?"

Rodney thought about making something up to fob off John but in the end, he knew he'd never be able to fake it. John could always tell when he was lying. He studied his left thumbnail, noting a little tag of skin at the corner and picking at it. "It's stupid," he said in a small voice.

John fished around in his pocket and pulled out a set of nail clippers. "What did I tell you about that? Stop pulling at it, you'll only make it worse." He tossed the clippers in Rodney's direction. Rodney just barely looked up in time to catch them.

He used the excuse of trimming the potential hangnail to avoid looking at John.

"Well?" John prompted, sounding impatient.

Rodney twisted his mouth and dropped the clippers on the table with a metallic clatter. "Okay, if you must know, I read an article today that kind of disturbed me."

"Someone refuted one of your theories in a scientific journal?" Confirmation that Rodney's concern was only about an article had John shifting quickly into a teasing mood, it would seem.

"Really, I have no idea why you haven't auditioned for Last Comic Standing."

"I looked into it, but decided it wasn't worth it when I realized you weren't supposed to take out the other comics with a P-90," John quipped effortlessly.

Rodney couldn't help it; he thought it was funny.

"You haven't answered my question." John's prompting was almost gentle, for him.

Rodney studied his nails again. "This article I read. It was about relationships. Gay relationships." Rodney risked a quick glance at John and then dropped his gaze again, as heat flooded his face. "Anyway, it talked about the differences between straight and gay couples and suggested that gay relationships were doomed to an early failure—much more so than hetero ones," Rodney pointed out quickly, when John seemed to be about to say something. "It was depressing, that's all. It made it seem like no one had a chance."

When Rodney was able to look at John again, he was frowning. "Doomed?" he asked. "Based on what?"

Rodney rapidly outlined the points of the article—the factors that drove some homosexual couples to crave dramatic tension in their lives after living a lifetime of repressed emotions, the reference to a 1969 study that suggested that gay men were constantly looking for the one penis that would satisfy—and moving on from person to person in search of it. He even brought up the Seven Year Itch and how most relationships, hetero or homo, failed at this time, usually out of ennui.

"What are you trying to say?" John got very still again.

Rodney floundered. "Well, we're coming up on seven years..."

More frowning. "How do you figure that?"

"It was seven years ago when you sat down in that chair in Antarctica."

John's face cleared, making him look suddenly boyish again. "That doesn't count. We weren't—you know—then."

Rodney found John's inability to put their relationship into words ridiculously appealing.

"Well, but it wasn't all that long before—you know—we did." Rodney's hands tried to describe what they did after they turned out to be the only survivors of the mission to check out the LaGrange Point satellite, and failed.

"So?' John's voice was distinctly challenging now.

"So, coming up on seven years."

John shook his head. "You have to subtract out the time you spent chasing Katie Brown and Dr. Keller."

"I think 'chasing' is hardly the right word." Rodney said stiffly. He noted that John had called Katie by name but Jennifer by title. He wondered what the significance of that might be.

John shrugged. "Whatever. We were off then. Doesn't count."

Rodney tightened his lips, feeling them fold into a thin line. "I think you're quibbling here now."

"Are you trying to break up with me?" The look on John's face was both shielded and hurt at the same time.

"What? No!" Rodney was aghast. "I'm just saying that it is inevitable. That you'll break up with me, that is."

The look John gave him would've stopped a Wraith in his tracks. "I'm not the one who keeps finding women to propose to."

Rodney opened his mouth to retaliate and then closed it, repeating the action helplessly as no words came out. Finally, he cleared his throat and tried again. "Well, I just assumed, you know. That we were just doing, you know, whatever, until one of us found The One. I was so sure it would be _you_ that left me. I guess I was just seeking insurance. A back-up plan. You know."

John just stared at him a long moment, his expression as unreadable as if it was hidden behind his favorite aviator sunglasses. "And you think that I'd leave you now because...?"

Rodney squirmed. "Well, the article suggested that it was—"

"I know." John cut him off. "Inevitable. But you had to have some reason for thinking it was true."

Rodney fidgeted in his seat. "Well, we've been together—off and on—for nearly seven years now. I'm sure things have gotten a little stale for you. I mean, well, you know. Sexually. As in there hasn't been too much of that lately. Or pretty hurried when we do have sex." Rodney wistfully remembered the days between the first heated rush of impatient 'thank-god-we're-still-alive sex and now—when they used to take their time with each other, sometimes stretching out their foreplay for two or three hours. Rodney knew that waiting around for Atlantis to get the green-lit to return to Pegasus had to be killing John—and the article had suggested boredom was a big problem for gay couples.

John's expression softened infinitesimally. "Rodney," he said. "You know we're not in Pegasus at the moment. It's a little harder for me to ignore the rules here. We're under closer surveillance."

"I know," Rodney blurted out. "I know and I get it, I really do. Only I can't help but wonder if maybe you're having second thoughts. Like maybe you don't find me as attractive anymore. You know, because familiarity breeds contempt." And face it. He wasn't getting any younger. Or keeping his hair.

A smile stole its way slowly across John's face, like the afternoon sun chasing shadows on the sea. "Okay, first of all? That article is full of crap. It was written by someone who wanted to justify _their_ breakup, see?"

Just hearing those words made it easier for Rodney to breathe somehow. Right. Why hadn't he used the same objective criteria to rate the article as he would have if it had been a scientific abstract? "You have a point. Also, the information cited was at least thirty years old."

"At a time when it when some people felt it important to make a case for 'gay equals abnormal'. Because if you're gay, then you can't possibly want the same kinds of things in a relationship that everyone else does."

Thinky John was doing all sorts of things to Rodney's libido right now and he had a sudden, bizarre image of John wearing glasses and presenting a lecture and damn, if he wasn't getting hard over that.

"Second," John went on, one eyebrow raised for emphasis. "Everyone else is not us."

Rodney blinked. "That's it. That's the sum total of your second point? A sort of John Sheppard version of 'because I said so?'"

His little half-smile appeared. "What more is there to say? I think that covers everything."

"That is meaningless from the standpoint of a logical argument and you know it."

John rose out of his chair slowly, with that sinuous grace of his. "You think?" He crossed over to where Rodney was sitting on the other side of the table and looked down at him. "These other people. These nameless, faceless gay couples who break up because their time ran out—are not us."

Rodney had a fleeting moment of wanting to search John all over for an expiration date but before he could comment, John was casually pushing aside Rodney's shoes with one foot. Making room for himself in between Rodney's knees. Rodney held his breath in anticipation.

John leaned down and placed his hands on the arms to Rodney's chair, effectively pinning him in his seat. Rodney had seen John do this on occasion during a prisoner interrogation and the hint of similar treatment was kind of exciting.

"Those other people? Haven't traveled to other galaxies. Haven't been the first people to set foot on an alien world, or ran a rescue mission on a Hive ship, or stared down a Wraith at close range." Using the chair for the balance he didn't seem to need, John sank slowly to his knees. Suddenly their positions seemed reversed as Rodney remembered all the times John had been forced to his knees by a Wraith.

The look John gave him, however, was nothing like Rodney had seen on his face whenever he'd been held prisoner. This was John at his wicked, wildest best, and Rodney's cock lifted and strained against his fly.

"Those people haven't brought a sleeping city to life, or walked among the stars and planets. They haven't been through any of the things we've been through together and survived. You and me, McKay? We're in it for the long haul."

John let his hands drop to Rodney's thighs, rubbing his fingers sensuously along his muscles. "What, no comment?" John asked, raising his eyebrow again as he reached for Rodney's fly and unzipped it. "I don't think I've ever seen you so quiet before."

"I don't think I've ever heard you say so much before," Rodney said in all seriousness.

"I am more of an action guy," John admitted, firmly taking hold of Rodney's cock and working it out of the slit in his boxers. He smiled down on it as though he were greeting an old friend, and leaned in to close his mouth around the plump, aching head.

Rodney let his eyes close at the contact but then opened them almost immediately. They'd fallen into some predictable patterns when it came to sex over the last few years. John liked it hot and dirty—literally. He was his most aggressive and passionate when they'd just come back from a mission by the skin of their teeth, high on adrenaline and reeking of sweat. He was all digging fingers and sharp teeth then, leaving Rodney with razor burn and a sore ass from the pounding he'd taken. Rodney loved it though, loved it when John was just this side of a little too rough, and couldn't help but encourage him.

Rodney on the other hand, was the tactile one. He was the one who couldn't get enough of touching John, who liked nothing better than to rub himself off against John's skin. His favorite thing to do was give John a long, teasingly slow blowjob, sucking and savoring the feel of John's cock in his mouth and the smell of him when Rodney was buried nose deep in his balls.

John didn't give blowjobs often. Rodney wasn't missing this.

Because there was something mesmerizing about the shape of John's mouth when it closed around his cock—the full, pouty lips puckered in a distinctive way just before they made contact. There were times when Rodney had trouble watching John eat anything resembling a succulent fruit when they were off-world, because this image would flash to mind every time.

John's blowjobs weren't anything fancy. He wasn't a master of tongue action. He had a fairly strong gag reflex too. On paper, his blowjobs weren't anything to write home about. But the reality was that John gave a blowjob with the serious dedication that he gave anything that was important to him—like cleaning his gun—and Rodney knew that he'd never be able to watch John clean a weapon without thinking of this moment again.

John's mouth on his dick was unadulterated physical pleasure, plain and simple. Holding Rodney's cock steady with one hand, he let his salvia provide all the moisture he needed, pumping his mouth further down Rodney's shaft with each pass, pausing only to lick the entire length of it, before taking the head in his mouth again. His tongue conformed completely to the underside of Rodney's cock; the smooth rhythmic slide of skin against sensitive skin brought Rodney closer to orgasm with each pass as he felt the familiar tension develop in his body. The pumping action of John's head was steady, quick, and businesslike—and perfect. Just perfect. John knew exactly what Rodney needed to come from a blowjob. Just when Rodney thought his orgasm inevitable, John pulled off with a soft, wet 'plop' of sound. He glanced up at Rodney, his lips shining with saliva and just a millimeter away from Rodney's cockhead. His every breath brushed warmly over the sensitized head.

With a devilish smile, he rubbed his lips across Rodney's slit, back and forth. Unexpectedly, Rodney came—not in an explosion of sensation but in a shuddering, exquisite eternity of feeling that felt as though it would never end. His cock spurted come in slow, dribbling amounts that John sucked down, prolonging the tremors running through Rodney's body.

John sat back on his heels with a laugh and very smug smile. "Debauched suits you, McKay."

"Uh-huh." Rodney was sure he could produce a snappier comeback shortly.

John eyed him a moment, then seemed to come to some sort of decision, standing up and unzipping his pants. He stood between Rodney's spread thighs and pulled out his cock. Rodney thought about leaning forward to suck John's dick because, like the rest of him, it was very, very pretty. Before he could shift position however, John licked his palm thoroughly and began jacking himself with purpose.

"You think I don't want you?" He sounded almost angry. "You think I'm going to walk away from you some day?"

Rodney felt bad now. "I don't really," he confessed. "It's just I'm so bad with this whole relationship thing and I really sort of expect to get dumped on a regular basis. You're the one I've always wanted—I just didn't think I could really have you."

John made a small noise of frustration, working his hand up and down his shaft furiously.

"Here. Let me. You're not wet enough." Rodney held on to John's hip with his left hand to steady himself as he leaned forward, replacing John's hand on his cock with his own. He laved the head with his tongue a few times and pumped his mouth up and down the shaft, leaving a thin trail of saliva as he leaned back.

"Thanks, you're a pal," John deadpanned. He returned to jacking off in earnest. "I'm not going anywhere, McKay."

Rodney noted the telltale sign that John was getting close—the reddening of his cheekbones. When he spoke again, it was through clenched teeth. "You're _mine._ "

As he spoke, come spurted out of his dick, splashing across Rodney's thighs and his sated cock, where it still lay half out of his open pants. Rodney stood in time to accept John's full body lean into him.

They stood that way for a long moment, Rodney's arms encompassing John completely as he rested against Rodney, breathing hard. A fierce rush of satisfaction ran through him at the warm weight of John against him and the smell of sex between them.

When John finally shifted, he pulled back to look at Rodney with a sleepy-lidded smile. "That's just the warm up." His words were a promise.

"I know." Rodney knew he meant it, but he also knew that as long as they were on Earth, they were going to have to continue to tiptoe around, hiding their relationship even more than usual.

John took a step back, tucking himself back in his pants with a big yawn. "Let's get cleaned up and get some dinner. We should make an early night of it."

"We should?" Rodney zipped up his fly and realized he was going to have to work on his pants with a damp washcloth before he could leave the room.

"Yeah," John said, and something in his tone made Rodney look up sharply.

He was hard-pressed to say what it was exactly, but there was something in John's sly expression that both excited and frightened him. _What was he up to now?_

"Yeah," John repeated. The sun came out from behind a cloud, intensifying the light in the room. "Tomorrow, you're gonna help me steal Atlantis."

Rodney blinked. A grin crept slowly across his face as the words sank in. Well, what did he expect? It was inevitable.

~fin~


End file.
